


Maintenance

by ronanlunch



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2114361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronanlunch/pseuds/ronanlunch





	Maintenance

Ronan Lynch had never before had a first day at work. He had never had a day at work period. There had never been a need, and always been other things, better things, to spend his time on.

 

Yet here he was, at the break of dawn, shuddering and itching in cheap mass-produced pants and a terrible polyester shirt, fingering the keys to the tool shed of Henrietta public park, where he was appointed to do maintenance over the summer. Ronan did not have much previous experience with weeding, watering flowers or grass mowing. What he did have was an impressive sum of money and a talent for getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was walking towards him right at this moment.

Talk at Aglionby had been that the scholarship kid from Latin that Ronan had been lusting after for the last few months was having to work through the summer, and Ronan was nothing if not a man of opportunity.

“Parrish,” he greets coldly before locking up the shed. Adam grunts in reply, looking much better in park uniform than should be humanly possible. Ronan lets his mind wander, thinking about Adam in other sorts of uniform, thinking about Adam without a uniform, before snapping back to reality as the object of his fantasies coughs behind him, waiting for him to finish grabbing his tools.

“Why are you taking off your shirt?” Adam asks after they have worked a few hours. The sun was beating down on them as they were hunched over, painting a fence, when Ronan decided he had had enough of the itchy piece of shit. “Not wearing that,” Ronan pants, stretching his arms in the air gratefully as a relatively cold wind caresses his now naked skin.

"I’m not sure the supervisors will be pleased if they see you strolling around half naked," Adam comments, carefully dipping the brush in the box of oxblood red paint.

"The supervisors can bite me," Ronan retorts, flicking his own brush in the boy’s direction, painting his face, arms and uniform with bright red spots. Sighing, Adam tries to rub the paint off. "Are you here because of some juvenile delinquent shit? Is this community service for you?" Ronan just grins sharply in reply.

 

Adam can’t help but glance over at Ronan, his tattoo glistening with sweat as the muscles work under it. If Adam didn’t know any better — if he hadn’t had years of practise to learn to know better because being poor in a rich school is one thing but being poor and not straight is a whole other circle of hell — he would think Ronan was doing it on purpose. All that back arching, all the muscle flexing couldn’t be how people normally mowed lawns. For God’s sake, the guy looked like a Brazzers ad come to life. 

“Oi, Parrish,” Ronan says, snapping Adam out of his thoughts. Adam takes his eyes away from his tattoo and looks at his face a little guiltily. He can feel his ears go bright pink. Ronan is grinning at him again. “Are you going to help me or do I have to do everything myself?”

“Would do you good to work a little more,” Adam says but his voice is not as sharp as he would have liked and Ronan just laughs at his face.

It doesn’t take long working, however, before Adam has to take another break, sweat stinging his eyes. How is it so warm? Is this even safe?  
Grudgingly, he takes off his own shirt, which he has realised works sort of as a greenhouse on top of being terribly uncomfortable. Ronan whistles appreciatively. No, he whistles jokingly, Adam corrects himself. He should stop reading into things. Ronan was as straight as anyone, and he was just comfortable with his sexuality. Extremely comfortable, he realises, as Ronan comes over and places a hand on Adam’s upper arm for support as he pretends to faint from the heat. The hand lingers for longer than necessary.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” Ronan comments, fanning himself. “We should go look for some water or something. Ideally, a fucking beer.”

Shuffling uncomfortably, Adam looks for something to say in response.

“I guess we could go to the pool for our lunch break,” he suggests finally. “We have to clean it after anyway.”

"That’s the second best idea you’ve had all day," Ronan says and smiles. "After taking off your shirt, of course."

Adam never thought it was possible to blush so much and still have blood enough left to make his pants feel really uncomfortable. At least he can blame one of his problems on the sun. It might be some kind of prank, he thinks. Some scheme to get him to come out and then embarrass him and make his life hell at school. Everyone talks about Ronan Lynch, after all, and no one has good things to say. He won’t give him the satisfaction. 

"You always say faggy shit like that?" Adam says and it scares him, how much he sounds like his father.

Ronan frowns, lips a thin line on his face.

Adam counts it as a win and turns away.

Ronan stares after Adam as the boy continues mowing the lawn a safe distance away. He’s not sure what just happened. He doesn’t usually misread signals but fine, he might have wished them to be there more than they actually were there. But Parrish had been staring at him, he was sure of it. Maybe he is just a really big fan of tattoos, Ronan thinks before continuing the work.

“Hey, Lynch,” he hears after a while, and turns to see Adam come towards him, his upper body tan and shiny and … Ronan decides he should probably look anywhere but Adam’s body. He decides on somewhere around his hairline.  
“How about that pool?” he continues as he gets closer and, happy for the distraction, Ronan drops his tools.  
“Race you,” he yells before taking off.

“Don’t you think we should,” Adam starts but Ronan just laughs and throws something about sore losers over his shoulders before he is gone.

Adam runs after Ronan even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though he knows that poor boys are always the ones that get in trouble when the rich have wild, mad, crazy ideas. And if he makes sure he is always a couple of steps behind Ronan, to be able to stare at his back as he runs, why, that’s nobody’s business but his own. 

Ronan kicks off his shorts as he runs and he falls into the pool in his boxers, with no sense of shame or modesty. Adam stops at the end of the tiles and stares at the water.

"Come on, Parrish," he says. "It won’t bite you."

This is another trick, Adam thinks, another test. He takes off his shorts and jumps into the cold water before he has time to think more about repercussions.

The water is cold which is exactly what he needs after a long day of work and of looking at Ronan Lynch and he stays underwater as much as he can, enjoying the silence of the water. But when he opens his eyes instead of seeing the blue water he can see Ronan’s legs, his torso, his arms. He comes out of the water tossing his hair back from his eyes. 

Ronan grins at him. Adam grins back.

There is a moment where either of them could have leaned forward and kissed the other, where it would have been the most natural thing in the world, but neither of them do. Instead, they just look at each other, still grinning, before Ronan pushes Adam under, and Adam, half in panic, wraps his arms around Ronan’s torso to pull him down with him. They both come up from the water gasping and laughing, rubbing the water out of their eyes, brimming with energy.

“I can’t swim,” Adam confesses, still gulping air. Everyone at Aglionby knows how to swim. The school had arranged swimming lessons for all the students. At that time, Adam’s upper body had been covered in blue, black, and yellow bruises, so he had stayed home sick. He had actually been looking forward to learning how to swim, so he hadn’t been surprised when that too, like everything else he wanted, was taken away from him.

Ronan looks at him like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. 

"And you jumped right in? Are you crazy?" he asks and then he throws his head back and laughs. "Christ, Parrish, I thought you were smarter than that."

Adam feels himself blushing again, this time out of genuine embarrassment. Ronan stops laughing and moves as if he’s going to clap his shoulder again then stops, offers a fist bump instead, a little awkwardly.

"You’re cooler than I thought, Parrish," he says with a grin and Adam smiles back at him. 

Maybe the summer won’t be that bad after all.

The next couple of weeks pass without incident. They show up early, Ronan complains about showing up early, they keep the park looking pristine, or as good as two teenage boys can make it look, before jumping in the pool. Ronan teaches Adam how to swim, or at least how to stay afloat and move awkwardly around in the water. Then they dry off and wolf down their food before continuing the work while Ronan complains. When their shift is over, they let their knuckles brush as they leave each other at the gate, and meet up again the day after. Rinse and repeat. It’s an easy life. 

Until, as with all things Adam enjoys, Robert Parrish ruins it. 

He gets home one day, tired but happy, after what felt like the hottest day of his life, hair still dripping from their dive at the pool. Ronan had called him Adam once, like they were proper friends and not just unwilling coworkers. Adam thinks he should probably feel less excited about something like that but it’s impossible to stop smiling. His father is waiting for him when he gets home. 

"I saw you today," he say and Adam’s breath catches in his throat. "Splashing around like a couple of fags."

Adam doesn’t say anything, there’s nothing to say. 

"Is that how you make your precious money?" he asks, getting up and moving towards him. "Whoring for the faggots at your school?”

The beating he gets is no worse than he’s got before. His father finding the underwear catalogue open on the male section instead of the female ended up in a terrible one. When he tried explaining that he wanted to buy him pyjamas for father’s day, he had been beaten even harder.

“Don’t lie to me, fag,” he had breathed between the whips from the belt. “I know you have no fucking money. You are an embarrassment, and the fact you have my name makes me feel sick.” Adam had forced himself to stay awake for days after, just in case he came back.  
This time, however, he sneaks out just as soon as his father leaves for the pub. There is only one thought in his head. Must warn Ronan, must warn Ronan, must warn Ronan. He would not put it beneath his father to pay a visit to the “privileged faggot” after he had gotten something to drink. Anyway, through their weeks together in the park, Ronan had made him feel things he had never felt before. Valued, loved, safe. And if there was something he hungered for right now, it was that.

He curses himself for not having a phone, and not taking Ronan’s number all those weeks and he tries to remember where Ronan said he lived. The Lynches have a farm, somewhere, but Ronan lives alone, with a friend, in an old building in Henrietta. 

Monmouth, he thinks, Monmouth. 

It takes him more than an hour to ride his bike to that place, stopping every five minutes to get his breath back and give himself some rest before riding again and by the time he’s there he feels stupid, he feels vulnerable, he feels weak. What did he think he’d do, knock on Ronan’s door and say “Hi, my crazy father might stop by to beat you up because he thinks we’re fucking” ? And what would that get him other than Ronan laughing at him? Nothing, that’s what.

But he still does it. Call it stupidity, call it heat stroke, call it having too much blood rushing through his legs and flowering under his skin to provide his brain with enough oxygen, but he does it, he knocks on the door and only after does he start regretting. By then it’s too late.

Someone opens the door, not Ronan. It takes some time before Adam recognises the boy with the polo shirt, wire-framed glasses, and tussled hair to be Ronan’s only friend, Richard Gansey, looking starkly different out of his uniform. By then the other’s shocked expression has been replaced with a polite smile. Adam realises he must look like hell.

“How can I help you?” Gansey asks, still holding tightly onto the door, and Adam realises he is not as welcome as the smile would have him think.

“Errr, I’m here for Ronan, eh, Lynch,” Adam mumbles, and Gansey nods in understanding.

“Ah,” he says, “of course.” He calls Ronan’s name over his shoulder a couple of times before excusing himself.

“He often listens to music with his headphones,” he explains, closing the door. “I’ll go see if I can find him for you.”

The waiting is awkward to say it the least, and Adam has half a mind to get back on his bike and go home, but just as he has decided to do just that, the door opens again and Ronan appears.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ronan asks and pulls Adam inside under the light before he has time to react. Adam hasn’t looked in a mirror, doesn’t know the extent of the damage, so he just tries to duck his head and avoid Ronan’s eyes. Ronan puts a hand on his jaw and lifts his face again, eyes narrowed. 

"You look like a fucking piece of meat," he says. "Who did that?"

Adam doesn’t speak, Adam doesn’t think he can speak. 

"Adam," Ronan says. "Adam, you have to tell me. Was it someone from school?"

Adam shakes his head.

"Who the fuck was it, Parrish?"

Adam wants to tell him everything, let him be his avenging angel of a sort because there’s danger in Ronan’s eyes now, the promise of retribution. Adam doesn’t speak.

Ronan sights and leads him up some stairs and through a spacious, messy room to a crowded bathroom where he is pushed down onto the toilet. Ronan leaves, and Adam can hear voices through the closed door, Ronan yelling “I’ll deal with it, fuck you,” before returning a moment later with a big first aid bag.

He starts cleaning up Adam’s face and it hurts but it’s still kind of nice, having him this close and Adam is not sure what he’s doing here any more, it’s not like he could protect anyone from his father, going here probably made it even more likely that he would come, but he keeps still and stays quiet.

“Fucking hell, Parrish,” Ronan sighs in frustration as he uses a cotton ball sprinkled with alcohol to remove some of the blood. Adam winces, but says nothing.

Ronan mumbles something under his breath about taking him to see a doctor, and Adam can’t have that, they will put two and two together.

“Why is there a fridge in the bathroom?” he creaks out, and Ronan eyes him, before turning around to look at the fridge like it’s the first time he sees it.

"You’re changing the subject," Ronan says and looks at him again. "Are they beating you? I’ve wondered before." 

There’s something cold in Ronan’s eyes, and Adam looks away.

"Why don’t you do something about it?" Ronan asks and it’s the same as every other person that’s guessed, it’s the same this-is-all-your-fault look, as if there’s a magic button Adam could have pressed to change everything, as if he could throw a punch and save himself, save his mother, save them all.

"This isn’t about you," he says and pulls away from Ronan’s hands.

Ronan laughs.

"Yes sorry," he says. "You probably came to my door asking for help by mistake. Meant to go next door, perhaps?"

“It was a mistake,” Adam says and moves as if to get up and leave, but Ronan pushes him back down, scowling.

“Fuck, Parrish, you’re not going back there?” Ronan kneels down and looks up at him, something like desperation in his eyes but all Adam can see is the pity.

“Where else am I supposed to go, Lynch?” Adam bites back. “As I said, this was a mistake. I don’t know why I came here, but I want to leave now. Thank you for the clean up, but I can take it from here.”

Ronan backs up as Adam gets up and as he leaves the bathroom he can hear Ronan’s voice behind him.

“Where am I supposed to look for you when you don’t show up for work tomorrow, Parrish? Should I go look in your fucking trailer? Will I find you half dead, sprawled on the steps? Or will you be buried in the desert? Will he even bother to fucking bury you?”

Adam stops at the door, looks back. He knows he should probably leave, he should just walk away and never talk to Ronan Lynch again but something keeps him there, rooted at the spot. 

"What do you expect me to do?" he yells. "Run away and starve? Hit him back and end up in jail? Not all of us have rich families that bail us out all the time."

"No, some of us apparently have fathers who beat the shit out of their sons."

"Fuck you," Adam says. "Don’t talk as if you know what it’s like."

"I don’t-“ Ronan started but Adam cut him off with a glare.

“Get off your high horse, asshole. Not everyone got everything handed to them the minute they were born, okay? Some of us had to work to get where we are, and we had to deal with the shit life gave us and try to make the best of the situation. You have your money, your family, this,” he gestured out the door, “so don’t come here tell me what to do. You don’t have any idea what it’s like.” Adam stopped for a breath, and suddenly Ronan was standing terribly close to him, snaking his arm around him to close the door behind his back, before leaning his face down close.  
“Stop talking, Parrish.” Ronan kisses him and it feels too much like a shut up routine but Adam leans up anyway and kisses him back deeply, because Ronan is right there and he’s making him feel safe and wanted and God, Adam always needs to feel like that but never more than now.

Ronan brings a hand to cup the back of his neck and Adam winces, pulling away as his fingers skim over a bruise. Ronan steps back guiltily.

"I hurt you," he says. "Are you okay?"

Adam nods, but the moment is passed and he doesn’t know how to pull Ronan in again without putting himself on the line. 

He kissed you, a part of him thinks, he kissed you that means it’s not a trick. 

You never know, another part argues, you never fucking know.

“Fuck, Parrish,” Ronan says and even though Adam avoids his gaze he can still feel his stare on his face, his lips, mapping out his bruises.The other boy steps closer, his fingers, softly on his jaw, pushing Adam’s face up so that he can’t help but meet his eye. “Look at me,” he says, “let me try again,”and Adam thinks it must be a trick, it must be hidden camera, if he kisses back he’s doomed but when Ronan leans down Adam’s lips meet his halfway and he can’t help it when his arms fold around Ronan’s neck or when their bodies move closer. It’s out of his control.

Ronan pulls back to take a breath and when he smiles at Adam, Adam’s breath catches in his throat. He leans his forehead against his and breathes, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down.

"I should have done that in the pool," he says and Adam can’t help the urge to shake his head.

"Workplace," he says. "I wouldn’t kiss you in the pool."

Ronan’s jaw drops and Adam bites back a laugh. The whole thing is ridiculous, what they’re doing is ridiculous, how far away his father and his bruises seem all of a sudden is ridiculous.

Adam kisses Ronan this time.

It goes on for a long time.

“You should stay the night,” Ronan says eventually and Adam pulls back, brow furrowed.

“I’m not-,” he says but Ronan interrupts him.

“Not like that, fuckhead. I’ll get you a mattress, you can sleep on the floor. Just until you figure stuff out, saves me having to do the work all alone tomorrow if you don’t show up.”

Adam’s not sure why he says yes, but he does. Maybe he doesn’t want to be alone. Ronan lights up at his reply and kisses him on the forehead before pushing him to his bedroom - fairly impersonal and scarcely furnished besides from a big bird cage and an old, battered iPod on the floor, massive headphones still connected.

There is a black bird sitting perched on the headboard of the bed and she’s watching Adam with her head cocked to the side.

"That’s Chainsaw," Ronan says and reaches out and puts his finger in front of the bird’s beak. It leans forwards and pecks it in a way that looks almost affectionate. "You don’t mind birds, do you?"

Adam shakes his head. Ronan with a pet bird, even a scary one called Chainsaw of all things, is something Adam wouldn’t have expected. He wonders how many more surprises there are to discover.

Ronan leaves the room and drags back in a mattress, big and slightly lumpy. 

"I swear it’s comfortable," he says and unrolls a sleeping bag over it. 

Adam considers the size of the mattress.

"Will you be okay?" Ronan asks, picking up one of the pillows.

Adam considers the size and severity of his bruises.

"I think we could share," he says and Ronan drops the pillow again. He’s trying to look nonchalant but Adam can see a smile dancing in his eyes. "No funny business," he adds.

"What about slightly amusing business?" Ronan asks and kisses him again.

Adam wants nothing more.


End file.
